Scars
by igirisexual
Summary: Everyone has them. Be they visible on the skin, or hidden on the heart, everyone has scars. Even our beloved Mr. Braginsky. Teacher AU. Precursor to laveniis' fic, 'A Ruler and a Strange Science Teacher', and backstory for Mr. Braginsky. Platonic RusCan, with a bit of RoChu.


"Mr. Braginsky?"

Ivan turned his head a little when he was addressed. He was in the middle of one of his first classes of the term; one of his first actual classes ever, actually. He was a new teacher here, having only been on the grounds for a week. He was quite excited to have his own classroom. Already he had plastered the walls in positivity posters and things to do with cool science, like Albert Einstein doing that one funny face. He was also very excited just about science.

"Yes?" Ivan said, turning his head. He still wasn't used to being called '_Mr. Braginsky_', so let's refer to him as Ivan for this time. The student who had raised their hand looked at him with an expression he was unable to name. Curiosity, shame, pity; one or all of the three.

"Where'd you get them scars?" the student asked, pointing up at Ivan.

He froze at that moment, slowly lifting a hand to his throat and unfolding the collar of his undershirt. He hadn't thought of covering them. "That's not a science question," he answered lightly, turning around and starting to write things about evolution up on the whiteboard.

"You didn't answer me, sir," the student called out.

"And I won't be answering you." Ivan concluded, his back to the class. "Don't ever ask a question like that again, be it to me, or a classmate, or anyone. Ever."

* * *

"Mr. Wang said to come and see you," Ivan said quietly, neck a little too warm under the scarf he'd put on. Although Mr. Wang was just an acquaintance, Ivan had mentioned his students asking about things they shouldn't be, and Mr. Wang, seeming to know what was up, pointed him in the direction of the social worker's office.

"Oh, you're the new teacher here, Ivan, right?" Matthew said quietly, turning on his spinny chair a little to face the man standing in his doorway. "Come in. My services aren't just for students. I'm Matthew."

"Everyone else likes calling me Mr. Braginsky," Ivan joked softly, sitting down on the chair across from Matthew's desk.

"Well, this is a place for help from a friend, and it's not too friendly to call each other by our surnames when we're not in class." the Canadian smiled, lacing his fingers together in his lap. "So, tell me, why have you decided to visit me today? If it's just for a chat, that's alright too, eh."

"Well, It's quite stressful being here," Ivan said in a murmur, fiddling lightly with his hands. "I don't have any friends and a lot of the staff scare me."

"Hey, Ivan," Matthew sighed lightly. "It's always a bit like that when you're in a new place. This is your first teaching job, right?"

"Yes," he breathed, watching as the social worker stood and moved about, utilizing the little kitchen off to the side of his office. "I was getting my degrees for a while, and then I applied for a position," he murmured.

"Went straight to teaching, eh?" Matthew mused, seeming to be making something. "I respect that. Would you like to be my friend? At least, until you can find some other ones of the staff here?"

Ivan was flustered and unsure what to say. No-one had ever directly asked him about being his friend. Or indirectly, for that matter. No-one had ever asked to be his friend. Period. "I.. If you want," Ivan mumbled. "That'd be really nice, thank you, Matthew." Matthew smiled although he knew Ivan could not see it.

"Like pancakes?" he asked, turning his head a little. Ivan could now see that he was holding onto a frypan that had some cooking pancake batter in it. True about those Canadians, isn't it? "These are my special home-made 'you're now my friend' pancakes," he laughed softly.

"I'll have to have them if that's what they are," Ivan joked, rubbing the back of his neck. As his fingers graced the flaws in his skin, he tensed, and remembered why he was here.

"What do children think," Ivan started, before trailing off and trying to think of better words for it.

"God knows," Matthew scoffed. "And me, since I'm a social worker with degrees in psychiatry and psychoanalysis."

"What do children think when they see scars on a person?" Ivan asked, noting from the slight change in Matthew's body language that the man knew where this was going to go. Probably a common problem in a high-school.

"Depends on the child," he answered quietly, flipping the pancakes. "Some see survivors, some see weaklings, and some just don't care."

"What if they saw them on an adult they're supposed to look up to?" Ivan asked quietly, slowly starting to uncurl the scarf from his neck. Once it was off, he folded it and rested it on his lap. "Will they think less of them?"

"Again, there's no hundred percent," frowned Matthew. "If it makes you feel insecure, I suggest long sleeves for now." Ivan looked down at his arms, and sighed.

"Neck," he mumbled. "They're on my neck. Have been for years."

"Turtleneck sweaters," Matthew began to list for his convenience. "That scarf you walked in with but took off. If you want me to look at them, listen, Ivan, I don't need to see them to know how you feel."

Ivan, silenced by this, slowly put the scarf back on. "Thanks," he said quietly, only really looking up when Matthew handed him a steaming stack of pancakes and a small bottle of maple syrup.

"It's no biggie. Want whipped cream?" he asked, going back over to the kitchen and rifling through the little pantry beneath the plate cupboard. "I like making smiley faces with the whipped cream and giving the pancake syrupy hair. Or vice versa."

"That's cute," Ivan laughed quietly, gratefully taking the whipped cream from Matthew and making a big smiley face on his pancakes with it.

"I know, right," Matthew cooed, taking the cream back and doing the same as he sat back down behind his desk. "So, anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm not sure," he mumbled. "Would you be able to help me with my confidence if I told you how I got them?" he asked. It was clear to Matthew that the scars would be the topic of today's conversation, so he nodded lightly and crossed his legs at the calf.

"I'll certainly try my best, eh." Matthew nodded. "Your overall confidence, or just about the scars?"

"Well, both, I guess," he sighed. "I'll be fine once I have some friends among the staff, but it's just the student thing I'm worried about."

"Alright, well," Matthew nodded, dicing his pancake up so he could eat it. "You can share whenever you're ready."

After eating his pancakes and waiting a little while in silence, Ivan finally grew the courage to speak. "I, um, I didn't come from a good place," he started, coughing lightly. "This whole thing will probably sound stupid, sorry," he breathed. To this, Matthew shook his head lightly.

"It's not stupid, Ivan. Please, continue."

"I always wanted to be a famous geneticist, or a chemistry genius, or study the stars," he breathed. "I still want to do those things someday, but I have to pace myself. P-point is!" he wheezed, feeling embarrassed about all of this. "Point is, I was always discouraged, even when I was just a kid."

"By parents?" Matthew asked.

"Parents, friends, whoever wanted to poke at my pride at the time," Ivan murmured, playing with the ends of his scarf and looking around the office. "I say friends, but I really just mean people at school. You're my first ever friend."

"The honor is all mine," Matthew smiled a little. "I like you, and I like being your friend. Please, continue."

"My dad drank," Ivan said softly. "So'd my mother, sometimes. They'd get angry because I wasn't doing chores fast enough. I was going as fast as I could; I was only a little boy. If they weren't cursing incessantly and telling me what a terrible child I was, they were telling me I wasn't smart enough to chase my dreams." After that little admission, Ivan turned his head a bit, feeling ill.

"But you are chasing your dreams, Ivan," Matthew pointed out, smiling warmly like a good friend would. "Here you are, a science teacher with multiple degrees. I'm sure you're famous to your students. Not to mention you're free now. Their false words can leave you now as you leave them."

Ivan glanced down again, fidgeting and breathing a little shakily. "Yeah.. Well, I.." he murmured. "I was struggling in school because I couldn't go too often," he murmured. "We lived too far away for me to walk, and my Dad just called me a failure and refused to drive me. He didn't want to waste drinking money on petrol," Ivan sniffled quietly, staring at his lap.

"Do you want a blanket? A hug?" Matthew asked softly, standing up. Ivan didn't appear to have seen him do so.

"And I believed him, worst of all," he mumbled. "I don't even think he started caring when I almost.." he trailed off, half-lidded eyes closing in painful memory. "When I did something reckless."

"Hey, Ivan," Matthew said quietly, going down on his knees in front of Ivan's chair and opening his arms. "You're a survivor, and you're through that now."

"I thought you said they'd see me as a weakling, too," Ivan sniffled, slowly getting off the chair and hesitantly leaning toward Matthew. Matthew's arms were warm and comforting, and Ivan tried his hardest not to start sobbing.

"That's what kids would see, but you and I know that you're a survivor, Ivan. You're through the rough now." Matthew said quietly, rubbing gentle circles into Ivan's back as the larger man started to cry softly. "It's an uphill trip from here."

* * *

"I think this is the last session I'll be needing," Ivan yawned as he sat down in the social worker office chair that he was quite used to. "You've helped me out a lot," he smiled. "I still have night terrors, but they've lessened for now," he sighed.

"Ah, they're decreasing in number or duration?" Matthew said from the office kitchen.

"Both, actually. It's quite a relief," Ivan sighed. It had been a few weeks of counseling, and Ivan was feeling considerably better about himself thanks to Matthew. The social worker was a really nice guy, and with good advice to boot. "I have something different to talk to you about today."

"Mm? Something new for our 'last session'?" Matthew mused. "On that note, it doesn't need to be our last session. You can just come in whenever you have time, or whenever you feel like talking, or whenever you're hungry," he smiled, handing over some pudding he'd been working on. "Here you go. Special recipe."

"Hopefully not one of Arthur's again," Ivan cringed. "Those fritters tasted like ashes and they weren't even burnt."

"Francis's recipe," scoffed Matthew, offering a spoon. "_Bon apetit_. So, what's on your mind today?"

"I think I have a crush on someone," Ivan whined.

"Oh boy," Matthew smiled childishly, leaning his elbows on his desk once he'd sat down. "Tell me who it is!"

"I'm going to see if you can guess," Ivan huffed. "Okay, he's-"

"Yao."

"What!" Ivan cried, almost spitting pudding everywhere. "How did you get that! I hadn't even started on the clues yet! Matthew!"

"I know these things, you big egg," Matthew chuckled. "Just because I don't feel romantic attraction doesn't mean I don't know when other people do. Your pupils dilate even when I say his name. Sometimes you forget to eat. You've started wearing red more, because you know it's his favourite colour," Matthew cooed, smirking because he knew he was right.

"So you do know," Ivan whined softly, bowing his head in defeat. "What do I do?! I've never even had a crush before," he whined.

"Well," Matthew huffed. "Do you two share common interests? I could literally be reading from _Romance for Dummies_ or _Love: The Professional Way_, and honestly, they all say the same things."

"I guess.. We work here?" Ivan tried, crossing his arms once he was finished with the pudding. "I don't know. Just tell me what to do, yeah?"

"Well, Yao likes cute stuff. He has Hello Kitty boxers that he's probably wearing right now; that's how much he likes cute stuff." Matthew scoffed. "If you do something cute and original, I'm sure he'd love to go on a date with you. Lucky for you, he's single and ready to mingle. He hasn't even been in a relationship since Romulus."

"A date.." breathed Ivan, amazed by the concept. "Huh.. Ah.. but.. Would Yao judge me for my scars?" he asked softly, kicking his feet. "I mean, I've come to terms with it, but would he?"

"He saw you before you covered up," Matthew reminded him, taking Ivan's plate from his lap and petting his shoulder with his free hand. "He knows. And he hasn't said anything, has he?"

"No," Ivan sighed, resting his elbow on the chair's arm rest. "So he's not bothered?"

"I can't guarantee he's not a little perturbed or saddened by it," Matthew murmured, washing up in the kitchen. "But if he hasn't said anything, it's safe to assume he won't think badly of you for it. Yao's a man who's seen a lot of pain himself, so he will know when it's a step too far."

"Thanks," breathed Ivan, heavily relieved by his friend's words. "I'm sure I'll think of something cute and original to ask him out with!" he huffed, determined now. "I'll do it tomorrow!"

"That's the spirit, eh!"

So, Ivan spent the rest of the day trying to plan how he'd ask out Yao. Of course. He'd borrow a ruler.

* * *

teacher au again! there's now an askblog for this au, run by me ;w;

askteacherrochu dot tumblr dot com !


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